Inevitably
by LonelyValentine
Summary: Story #7 of the "Prime's Right" series. After the battle of Autobot City and Unicron's attack, the Autobots try to put the remaining pieces back together. Jazz, widowed by the war, finds himself chosen by fate for the new Prime's berth. Rodimus finds himself once more subject to the will of the Matrix. Sticky and angsty.


**Inevitably**

 **x-x-x**

Story #7 in the "Prime's Right" series and a fill to this prompt at Tfanonkink:

REQ: Any - Optimus/Any Autobot - It's Good to be the Prime, Heat Cycle 2016-07-19 07:35 pm

Any Autobot that goes into heat, once found, is sent to Ironhide to be washed, polished, oiled, and then sent off to Optimus' berth for the night. Hopefully the mech emerges the next morning sparked up by the faction leader, who of course by virtue of the matrix is the fittest, strongest, wisest mech out there. It makes sense for him to be the one siring new sparks.

I'd love to see various Autobots being prepared by Ironhide (or some other lieutenant) and then placed in Optimus' berth to await him. Some could be scared. Some could be excited. Some could be unwilling for various reasons (and Ironhide might have to give them some sort of sedative or even physically restrain them). Some could be so excited they can't even wait and go out looking for the Prime, flinging themselves upon him demanding their turn RIGHT NOW!

 **x-x-x**

I don't own the characters; Hasbro does. I've only exploited them for entertainment purposes.

 **x-x-x**

Rodimus leaned back against his chair, a chair that had only recently become his, and stared at the ceiling. Paperwork. There were way too many documents to review and far too many things he had to understand and sign. This was annoying. All too annoying. Maybe he could handle the job of Autobot leader if it were just going out and busting up Decepticons. He was a warrior. The Prime was supposed to be a warrior. But apparently there was so much more involved.

A knock sounded on the door and he quickly leaned forward and picked up the closest pad. Best to look busy.

Kup entered, looking glum as usual. "Got a minute, kid? I mean, Rodimus."

Rodimus smirked. It was good to see that he wasn't the only one having a hard time adjusting to the change. "You can call me 'kid' anytime, Kup," Rodimus chuckled. "You've called me that since the first day we met. Except when you've felt it more appropriate to use obscenities."

"I suspect I'll be using them on you a bit less now," replied the veteran. "Anyway, First Aid sent me over to remind you that... well... Now that things have settled down a bit, there will be some other duties you'll need to be taking care of."

Rodimus sighed and gestured at the scattering of datapads and documents spread in front of him. "Tell them to get in line."

"Well, this won't require the same sort of attention."

"Whatever." Rodimus looked again at the datapad in hand. "Acquisitions for repair materials that need signing off on. Seriously? Why is this here? Don't we have some Constructicons of our own to handle this sort of thing?"

"Rodimus, a lot of Autobots died in the recent battles. Some of them had bondmates."

"What? I need to sign off on some sort of compen..." His optics suddenly dimmed. "Ohhhhhh..."

"Yeah."

"How soon do you think it will start?"

"First Aid said it could start anytime now. And look, you don't have to spend a lot of time on it. Just give 'em a little cuddle, do the deed, and then get some recharge. That's all you have to do."

"That's all?"

"Didn't you ever go into heat when you were Hot Rod?"

"Ah, no."

"So I guess you're not that familiar with it. Well don't worry about it. You'll do all right. Just be nice and professional and it'll be fine. I'm thinking we might see about assigning Arcee as your assistant for the cases that come up. She'd be good with this."

Rodimus leaned back into his chair again when Kup left, the Autobot leader staring at the ceiling again. What the heck had anyone been thinking when it was decided that the Prime was to be the faction breeding stud in addition to everything else? Maybe for just the officers it would be fine—that made sense—encourage unity and propagate their better traits. But for the entire faction?

 **x-x-x**

Rodimus stared. Was that really Jazz in his berth? He felt the need to reset his optics, and yes, it was still Jazz in his berth. The legendary head of Special-Ops was stretched out there, staring at the ceiling, looking every bit as gorgeous as the first time he'd laid optics on him.

"Jazz?"

"Yes?" asked the mech, his blue visor lighting up.

"Ah, nothing. Just... ah..."

"Nervous?"

Why hide it? "Yeah."

Jazz turned his head toward him, appraising the new Prime. The passing of the mantle had come as a surprise to him just as much as it had everyone else. "Kup told me I would be your first."

"I've had other lovers," Rodimus blurted defensively.

"Your first as Prime," he specified.

Rodimus looked embarrassed. "Oh, that. Yeah. My first in _that_ way."

To Rodimus' surprise a tiny smirk crooked the corner of Jazz's lip plates. No one had seen the saboteur express any emotion since learning of his bondmate's death. He'd just sort of... gone cold.

"Well get over here and let's get it over with."

Rodimus took a couple of steps forward, only to hesitate as he got within arms' reach. "You don't have to do this if you don't want to. I heard from some of the others that Optimus was rather enthusiastic about it, and few escaped. But I'm not that way. Tell me if you don't want to."

At this Jazz sat up and laughed. "Should I be asking _you_ that?"

Rodimus looked flustered, and he would have been insulted had it not been for the fact that Jazz had actually laughed.

Jazz leaned on one arm. "Got any high-grade in here? Let's have a few drinks and have some fun and try to forget what's happened for a night."

 **x-x-x**

Jazz and Rodimus stumbled back into the latter's quarters, having ended up getting buzzed on Kup's private stash, Rodimus not having had any high-grade around. His had all been quickly consumed in post-victory celebrations.

"Berth?" Rodimus asked. The Matrix, silent and stoic most of the time, was pushing him that way already. When he'd first come into the room where Jazz was lying waiting, it had suddenly woken. Through their drinking session it kept reaching for the in-heat mech across the table from him, its individual field stretching out hungrily. Now it seemed ready to take over the situation.

"Berth. Before I start remembering."

The pair staggered in that direction, but somehow only made it as far as the large padded bench in the center of the room. Rodimus wasn't sure quite how Jazz had done it, but somehow the shorter mech had managed to trip him, to where he fell on his back in the center of the bench. Jazz managed to land atop him. Rodimus giggled and reached up for Jazz's back, hands running enthusiastically over the much smaller frame. In all the vorns he'd known Jazz, he'd always been in admiration of the black and white mech. He'd never met him in person until Ultra Magnus' team had been stationed on Earth. He might have sought him out, but on learning that Prowl had claimed the saboteur as his mate, those fantasies of getting to know him personally had been quickly quashed.

But now... Now things were very different.

Rodimus stroked Jazz's back softly, and feeling the mech nuzzling his noseplate into the cables of his neck where they disappeared into his chassis, he pressed his lips to the top of Jazz's head, planting a kiss there. A second one followed, and then a third. The widow was all too kissable.

Jazz scooted up the Prime's chest, their faceplates meeting. Rodimus could feel the unusual heat radiating off of the frame atop his, the warmth of the breeding cycle combined with the overcharge of the high-grade along with what had to be arousal. The way the saboteur was not so subtly grinding the panel shielding his interfacing array against him could only be arousal.

Their lips hovered so close, and Rodimus waited for the anticipated kiss, but it never came. Jazz was holding back. He stared up into the blue visor wondering how much emotional pain his intended was in, but whatever internal battle was being fought, the external side of him suddenly decided to ignore it. Jazz's lips and denta latched on to the side of Rodimus' helm, kissing and biting happily, affection suddenly showering down upon the Prime.

Rodimus offlined his optics and let Jazz have his way with his frame, enjoying the way the smaller hands were sliding and gliding over his body, delving into seams and tugging at wires and stroking any exposed struts he came across. And it felt amazingly good, especially the closer the touches got to his own heating panel. The Matrix was humming happily inside of him, knowing what was about to happen, ready to take over if its bearer failed to obey the calling.

Jazz's hand drew teasing stripes across the panel. "I'm ready," he said. "I think the Matrix is too."

"How many times have you done this?" Rodimus asked. Jazz seemed to know while he felt rather lost—as he had been since the Matrix had merged with him.

"Three, with two successes."

"Do you want to conceive this time?"

"I'm not sure."

Suddenly worried that perhaps this conversation was going to head off down an unprofitable route, Rodimus decided he'd better take the lead. Isn't that what Optimus would have done? What he was supposed to do as the Prime?

He wriggled out from underneath Jazz, the two of them rising from the bench. And then he quickly scooped up Jazz in his arms, carried him to the bed, and deposited him there.

Jazz smiled up at him, and then lay back and spread his thighs apart. "Take me," he said in a sultry tone.

Without hesitation, Rodimus climbed atop him and tapped a fingertip against the black panel between Jazz's legs. Obediently it opened.

Jazz had been right. He was ready. The bright blue mesh within was slick with lubricant and the biolights around it glowed invitingly.

Rodimus opened the panel holding back his spike, and it extended quickly. Inside of him the Matrix burned with desire, its field reaching out as if trying to physically pull the two of them together. But that was unnecessary. Following Kup's advice, he moved his frame into position and all too easily slid inside of the other mech, the two of them whimpering and moaning as the connection was made.

"Primus, you feel good inside," Rodimus gasped. He onlined his optics again and looked down at his intended. It was still Jazz there—beauty and sensuality hiding the danger and skill the mech wielded. No wonder Prowl had claimed him for his own. Rodimus shifted his position, pushing Jazz's legs further apart and sinking in deeper. Slowly he began to thrust, finding the blue valve so tight and yet so welcoming. The heat from within Jazz felt incredible around his spike. He'd never taken a mech in this state before.

The thrusting continued, charge building between them. Rodimus could feel the Matrix taking over as the charge grew, the strange religious artifact in his chest starting to assume control. Was this what it was all about? Not about the sex, but instead about a spiritual connection that needed to be made?

Rodimus was suddenly unsure if he wanted to let the Matrix do all the piloting, and so he quickly withdrew, the calipers that had been clenching on his heavy spike moments before suddenly squeezing in on nothing. Inside his own body the Matrix shuffled and questioned and prodded against his own spark before reaching again for Jazz's.

Rodimus grabbed Jazz's hips and dragged him to the edge of the berth. He knew the mech was flexible, but it still surprised him when he was able to simply lift one of Jazz's legs to rest over his shoulder and push the other leg to the floor. He pushed again into the fully exposed valve, the folds of mesh now dripping with both of their fluids. Soon they'd drip with Primal transfluid as well.

He thrust harder, the two resettling into the new position and rhythm. Soon they were moving in a delicious synchronization and the charge began to build once more. The Matrix once more enveloped them in a field of tense desire.

It was then that Rodimus discovered that by canting his hips at a slightly different angle, the tip of his spike would rub against the ceiling node near the entrance to Jazz's gestation chamber. And with every press Jazz would grunt or murmur in pleasure, the ceiling sensory node having only one purpose—to trigger an overload when properly attended to. Rodimus sped up slightly, the charge sparking between them and both of them ventilating hard.

And then, unexpectedly, Jazz's optics onlined, and suddenly he stared right at Rodimus, his processors no longer hazed with high-grade and heat, but with a lucidity that snapped the whole situation into focus. His expression, one of physical ecstasy and abandon suddenly morphed into a mixture of guilt and panic.

Jazz flailed against the edge of the berth, but before Rodimus could pull back, he found the Matrix seizing command and shifting them back into their previous position, Rodimus using his greater weight and strength to hold him down. "Shhh... calm down," he found himself saying softly. "It's all right. Everything's as it's supposed to be." His hands suddenly caught Jazz's wrists and pinned them to the mattress above his head, which immediately relaxed the mech. The thrusting continued and the charge drew to a near intolerable limit. When Jazz cried out, Rodimus silenced the cries by pressing their mouths together in rough kisses. When Jazz overloaded, he embraced him tightly and pushed hard against the ceiling node until the clamping valve around him dragged him along into a glorious peak of his own. When Jazz began to whimper and bleed tears for his lost mate, Rodimus opened his chest and engulfed him in the light of Primus.

 **x-x-x**

Two cycles later Rodimus found himself completely exhausted. The Matrix no longer pushed him to continue. Jazz seemed sleepy and ready to call it a night.

"Want a shower before you go?" Rodimus offered. Interfacing could get pretty messy given the fluids involved.

"Would you mind if I stayed here?" asked Jazz, much to Rodimus' surprise.

"Stay here? Really?"

"I can go if you'd prefer, but I … I'd rather not sleep alone tonight. I don't think I could face that empty berth." He still inhabited the same quarters he'd shared with Prowl.

"Of course you can stay," answered Rodimus, not sure if he really understood the memories and emotions Jazz was struggling against. He'd never bonded with anyone, or even been close to any bonded pairs, to get any idea of the depth of the connection. The lovers he'd had through his life had been only that... lovers. None had wanted to share their sparks. It was too intimate. Too painful at times. Too risky in these times of war. Why Jazz and Prowl had chosen to do so was beyond him—two of Optimus' highest ranking officers. Thus two of Megatron's most desirable targets.

At least he could understand the desire to feel a warm frame and a pulsing spark next to his after such a dramatic evening. Rodimus rearranged the much-rumpled berth and climbing back in beside Jazz, he pulled the blanket over them and wrapped an arm around the smaller mech from behind.

"Thank you," whispered Jazz.

"You're welcome," Rodimus responded, pulling their frames closer together. "I hope it was okay."

"You were perfect," he said, and Rodimus was sure he could hear a smile in the saboteur's voice. "I wasn't sure if I could go through with it. But then I realized that you were just as apprehensive as I was."

"Thanks... I think."

Jazz wriggled and positioned himself tightly against the Prime. "You're welcome. It's not every day someone gets to be a Prime's first."

Rodimus smiled against the back of Jazz's helm. _There_ was another elusive glimmer of that playful personality they thought had died along with his bondmate. The black and white mech's recovery would take a long time, but now there was certainty of it.

He felt Jazz drift into a peaceful recharge while his thoughts raced into the future. What would happen now if Jazz conceived? How many more Autobots would face the widow's heat? Who would be next in his berth? Would their offspring be safe on this planet? It boggled his processors.

And then he realized how simple and childish all those questions were. There was so much more to worry about... so much more to give his attention to. Galvatron was still at large. No one had a definite answer as to what had happened to Starscream and quite a number of Megatron's lieutenants. Cybertron was in ruins. Shockwave's leaderless drones still patrolled the streets. Luna-Two was gone. The shattered head of a god orbited the broken planet. Right outside where they lay Autobot City was badly damaged. An unknown future lay ahead for the Autobots.

Rodimus pulled Jazz's sleeping form against him, holding it for his own comfort now. At least _this_ was simple. _This_ he could take some comfort in.

 **x-x-x**

 **The End**

 **x-x-x**

The "Prime's Right" series in G1 Chronological Order

Story #6: "Other Options" - Optimus/ Sideswipe-Sunstreaker

Story #3: "Gently. Lovingly. Quickly." - Optimus/ Jazz

Story #1: "More Than Okay" - Optimus/ Bumblebee

Story #2: "Second Place" - Optimus/ Mirage

Story #4: "Want It Now" - Optimus/ Grimlock

Story #7: "Inevitably" - Rodimus./Jazz

Story #5: "Divine Intervention" - Rodimus/ Silverbolt


End file.
